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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23495359">Having A Typical Emotional Upset</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterMunchkin05/pseuds/WinterMunchkin05'>WinterMunchkin05</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Where words fail, music speaks [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Light Angst, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Post-Break Up, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-WinterIron, Siberia was a hell of a break up, Steve's Letter to Tony Post-Civil War (Movie), WinterIron if you squint really hard, cliche break up ritual, just a bit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:55:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,074</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23495359</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterMunchkin05/pseuds/WinterMunchkin05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony would never mistake that piece of paper for anything else. He had held everything in when he had first received it and the burner phone St—<i>Rogers</i> sent because of how overwhelmed he was with everything that happened and was happening. Now, just this once, he wanted to let go.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Where words fail, music speaks [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640227</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>127</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Having A Typical Emotional Upset</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M_JNKNy7ldc">Song</a><br/>This song really hits hard in the feels.</p><p>This isn't as general as Steve's POV as that one encompasses the whole timeline of this series. Reading the first part is not a requirement to delve into this one, however visiting that one would be kind of you too.</p><p>All mistakes are mine, I have no beta.</p><p>Stay safe everyone. God bless!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Once upon a time, we swore not to say goodbye,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then something got a hold of us and we changed,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then you sat alone in pride, and I sat at home and cried</em>
</p><p>
  <em>How’d our fairytale just end up this way?</em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Tony came straight to his office in the Compound after accompanying Rhodey to his physiotherapy. He had instructed FRIDAY to bar any calls, unless there was a world ending catastrophe happening.</p><p> He needed time to be alone right now and it didn’t help that seeing his best friend—who was the strongest man he knew, always tall, strong and proud—grit his teeth in pain if he so much as try push himself off the mat reopened all badly, <em>scarcely</em>, healing wounds of <em>both </em>sense.  He would have sworn the walls at the clinic were closing in on him and it was making it hard for Tony to breathe.</p><p>Walking to the desk, he couldn’t help but die a bit inside as his gaze landed on the little knickknacks he had gotten from S—<em>Rogers</em> over the years. The doodles the blond would create on Tony’s post-its, the tacky frame housing a photo of the original team, the sketch of the ‘big, ugly building’ Tony knew he loved and lastly, the framed sketch of a dancing monkey balancing on a tightrope carrying Captain America’s first shield.</p><p>Looking at the last one was the most painful because to Tony it showed a part of the man he loves—<em>loved</em>—that made Tony see him for who he actually was and not what his colors represent.</p><p>The tightrope monkey was—<em>had been</em>—his favorite.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“I don’t really know what to get you, Tony. I just thought, maybe, you’ll like something more personal. I really hope you like it.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What is it? Wait, this is a frame, right? So… A picture? Did you actually paint me as one of your French girls, Rogers?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Close, but not quite. Open it.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Why’s there a shit ton of wrapper for this, babe?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Language.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes, yes. You love me anyway.”</em>
</p><p><em>“Always, sweetheart. </em>Always<em>.”</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>He grabbed the frame from its perch, fully intending to smash the fucking thing to pieces. God, if there ever really was one out there, <em>knew </em>he wanted to…he fucking <em>wanted</em> to, but only for his hand to stop when a crinkled sheet of paper fluttered to the floor at his feet.</p><p>Tony would never mistake that piece of paper for anything else. He had held everything in when he had first received it and the burner phone St—<em>Rogers </em>sent because of how overwhelmed he was with everything that happened and was happening. Now, just this once, he wanted to let go.</p><p>He already knew the words by heart, <em>etched</em> every word into each shredded piece of muscle Ste—<em>Rogers </em>had somehow left in his chest by reading it repeatedly.</p><p> </p><p>So, no.</p><p>He would recognize it.</p><p>Every wrinkle, every miniscule rip on its edges, every word blotted by salt water.</p><p>All of it.</p><p> </p><p>His hand dropped the blasted frame anyway.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It was an almost out of body experience for Tony, watching himself pick up the letter with trembling hands. His fingers adding something new to remember the letter by in the form of blood staining it from the tiny shards of glass that dug into his palm as his hand closed around the paper.</p><p>It didn’t hurt. Not the cuts, they might have if he wasn’t numbed by even greater pain. Instead, he was somewhat fascinated by the red blooming on the paper. So much that he carelessly dropped to the floor by his desk, not even the much sharper fragments of glass cutting through his slacks could draw him out of his…trance.</p><p>There was a sound.</p><p>FRIDAY might have also been calling him, maybe he had put her on mute because it stopped.</p><p>Maybe it was just his imagination.</p><p>His eyes, however, did flit through the mess on the floor and found the dancing monkey. Now decked out in robes of flowing, slowly drying crimson. Tony tore his eyes away from it to look at the paper in his shaking hands and read Stev—<em>Rogers’ </em>words.</p><p>In what he hoped was the last time.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>We went round for round ‘til we knocked love out </em>
</p><p>
  <em>We were laying in the ring, not making a sound</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And if that’s a metaphor for you and I</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Why is it so hard to say goodbye?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>First word in and Tony was already crumbling.</p><p>“<em>Tony</em>.”</p><p>Not love, not baby, most certainly not <em>sweetheart</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The distance that he tried to push at back of his mind whenever Tony mentioned helping <em>Stev</em><em>e </em>look for Barnes, the one that he had to tell himself didn’t become more palpable after Ultron, was glaring at him through the letter.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“I’m glad you’re back at the Compound. I don’t like the idea of you rattling around a mansion by yourself.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“If you hate it so much, then why did you leave?” Tony couldn’t help but ask for the hundredth time despite knowing that he would be receiving the same answer every time.</p><p> </p><p>Silence.</p><p>Nothing but silence.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>We all need family. The Avengers are yours—maybe more so than mine.”</em></p><p> </p><p>He blinked, tried and failed to make his tears land away from the letter.</p><p>The Avengers was <em>their </em>family.</p><p>It was his family as it was Steve’s, Bruce’s, Thor’s, Nat’s and Clint’s right from the beginning. They grew bigger when it came the addition of long-time family friend Rhodey, goofy Sam and, yes, even with the initial apprehension, Wanda.</p><p>Apparently, Tony had been deluding himself in thinking they could be each other’s family.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“I’ve been on my own since I was eighteen. I never really fit in anywhere, even in the Army. My faith’s in…people, I guess. Individuals.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>When they embarked on their relationship, they swore not to leave each other’s side. That they won’t let the other be alone. Steve said Tony gave him a home, that home meant <em>Tony.</em></p><p> </p><p>They were each other’s <em>home.</em></p><p>Steve’s letter begged to disagree, however.</p><p>What were all those promises for then? Pillow talk?</p><p>What was Tony to him? Air? A bauble to amuse himself with?</p><p> </p><p>And if Steve’s faith was in the people, why did he condemn Tony for listening to what the people wanted? If he did believe in the individual, why didn’t he believe Tony? Being lovers had nothing to do with it, Tony was, first and foremost, his friend…so why?</p><p>Tony croaked a chuckle, tears falling as he read the next line.     </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“And I’m happy to say that for the most part, they haven’t let me down. Which is why I can’t let them down either.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Goddamn if Steve Rogers had no compunction to hit where it would hurt the most.</p><p>They haven’t let him down for the <em>most</em> part?</p><p>No wonder he left Tony behind and took the others with him then.</p><p>Because even the blind could see it—Tony failed Steve the moment they met by not being like Howard, he failed Steve when he succumbed to his fears and built Ultron, he let Steve down by supporting the Accords and he let Steve down by letting his emotions get the better of him in the bunker.</p><p>In retrospect, maybe it wasn’t just Steve he failed. Tony had also failed himself when he didn’t recognize the fleeting look in Steve’s eyes when he had called him a laboratory experiment.</p><p>He was a futurist, for fuck’s sake.</p><p>It was the same exact look in the eyes of the man he loves—<em>loved</em>—when he beat Tony down and held the shield over Tony’s neck.</p><p>Those eyes were perfect simulacra of the serrated icicles that form on the surface of Lake Baikal during the harsh winters of Siberia.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>I can’t wait to hate you, make you pain like I do </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Still can’t shake you off</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I can’t wait to break through these emotional changes</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seems like such a lost cause.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I can’t wait to face you, break you down so low</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There’s no place left to go</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I can’t wait to hate you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>(Can’t wait to H.A.T.E.U)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Locks can be replaced, but maybe they shouldn’t. I know I hurt you, Tony. I guess I thought by not telling you about your parents I was sparing you, but…I can see that now that I was sparing myself. And I’m sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Tony knew he looked out of his wits, sitting on the floor while simultaneously laughing and crying over the letter sent to him by his own lover that nearly decapitated him in a Nazi bunker. He could be scaring the hell out of FRIDAY yet, he couldn’t help it. The tears were blurring the words and his surroundings but they just wouldn’t stop.</p><p>Here was Steve, the man whom made Tony so inadequate in his father’s eyes because of how strong and brave he was, admitting to his own cowardice. Howard would be rolling in his grave. And to top it off, he was asking Tony <em>not</em> to turn his back on him.</p><p>Oh, then again, Howard had a point. The man was brave, just not where it counts the most.</p><p>“Don’t replace the locks? You did that the moment you hid the truth from me, Steven. You did that the moment you decided to push me away. You did that when you left me to die.”  He spat, wiping his tears away with the sleeve of his shirt. He may have smeared some blood on his face, or whatever, but fuck it. “If you had truly loved me, you should know that I would have understood if you’ve been brave enough to tell me. What I don’t understand is why you’ve never thought of that, goddamn you.”</p><p>Tony continued to read, only two more paragraphs and he’d be done with this masochistic urge to relive building and the shattering of the, now he gathered to be, fantastical romance he had with one Steven Grant Rogers.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Oh, this was a love phenomenon no one could explain</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And I wish I could press reset and feel that feeling again</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I sit and press rewind and watch us every night</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wanna pause it, but I can’t make it stay</em>
</p><p>
  <em>(Just gotta let it play)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“I wish we agreed on the Accords, I really do.” </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>He wished for the same thing too. Tony had even taken to praying, to a God that everyone who knew him could tell he never believed in, for everything to be <em>miraculously </em>back to the way it used to be. Even adding in the prayers his Catholic mother had drilled into him. All the words clear as day in his head in spite of not uttering one in decades.</p><p>Tony prayed he would one day wake up back in Steve’s arms and the whole Compound would be filled with sounds and not the grating silence he was still trying to accustom himself with. He imagined the sounds from the loud arguments between Rhodey and Sam. From Vision who would terrorize the rest of them with his penchant for old man music like Steve, the flitting of TV channels because of Natasha’s quest to avoid trashy reality TV, the gentle melodies from Wanda’s guitar and the loud cheers from Clint for thrashing everyone’s record again in Mario Kart.</p><p>Of course, he wouldn’t be as fucked as he was being if wishes did come true. He wouldn’t be biting the inside of his cheek to stifle a choked sob when his wishes were proven in vain by the man he loves—<em>loved</em>.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“I know you’re doing what you believe in, and that’s all any of us can do—it’s all any of us should.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>No.</p><p>Steve didn’t know. If he had truly known then he would’ve listened to Tony too. Steve should’ve known how much it killed Tony to fight him, he never wanted to fight. However, just like it had been over the years—from the little arguments about movies, to battle strategies, to Ultron, to <em>Wanda—</em>they were an endless cycle of bliss and fights. Like an ouroboros eating its own tail, they were fighting only to make up and fight again.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “So no matter what, I promise you. If you need us—if you need me—I’ll be there.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Another promise to break.</p><p>Another lie he offered to Tony take.</p><p> </p><p>The whole thing with the Accords had been one of the times they needed each other. He was so sure Steve would realize that they all could push for amendments in it without resorting to violence.</p><p>Together.</p><p>He could still remember the resolve that emanated from Steve when he told them that they would all win and lose fighting alongside each other.</p><p>Tony believed him.</p><p>With everything he had, he believed every word.</p><p> </p><p>Steve said his faith lied with those that never let him down, the divergence of his actions and his words were hitting Tony heavier than the punches he had given back in Siberia. Tony wasn’t part of the individuals that had even a speckle of that faith, which was why he chose not to tell Tony about what they knew of Zemo’s plan.</p><p>Funny enough, Lang’s words had rang true for the Avengers despite the ex-con not being a part of the team at all. Hank Pym had instilled his distrust of <em>Howard</em> Stark into Lang too much that it bled into his perception of Tony.</p><p>
  <em>Starks can’t be trusted.</em>
</p><p>Howard’s legacy…it was both Tony’s blessing and curse.</p><p>Being the heir of a great man had been easy, surpassing that man hadn’t.</p><p>Same as with engines, Howard was the blueprint.</p><p>Everyone expected the son to be the same as the father.</p><p>Including Steve.</p><p> </p><p>Tony gave the letter one more glance, just to confirm that, yes, he was ready to never see it again. Ironically, this last look was the hardest to accept.</p><p>He wanted to fancy himself knowledgeable enough about the man that was Steve Rogers to avoid misconstruing what Steve meant by opting not to sign it. Tony still had the numerous notes he received from the man, all of them were signed as,</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Yours, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Steve</em>
</p><p> </p><p>And this was possibly what made the cogs in their eternal cycle stop turning.</p><p>They had finally reached the end.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>No need to call my phone ‘cause I changed my number today</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And matter of fact, I think I’m moving away, away</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sorry, the frustration’s got me feeling awake</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And I just keep having one last thing to say,</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Slowly gathering himself off the floor, Tony dusted himself and shook any pieces of glass off. He also picked up the monkey sketch and sat at the desk.</p><p>“FRI?”</p><p>“Yes, Boss?” There was a tinge of hesitation in FRIDAY’s tone. Poor girl must be at her code’s end in worry trying to figure out if he finally had his screws loose. “Would you like me to notify the med bay of your arrival?”</p><p>He shook his head,“ No, I’ll deal with the cuts later, they’re almost healed anyway. But…Can you…can you deactivate the smoke alarm in here for a moment?”</p><p>Anyone else would have ran out if they felt what Tony did, he knew FRIDAY had one of her cameras focused on him. Her eyes on him, vigilant yet gentle like a caress.</p><p>“Yes, Boss.”</p><p>“Thanks, baby girl.” He smiled at the more certain response and opened a drawer, rummaging for his lighter. Tony had given up smoking a long time ago, Momma Rhodes hadn’t been happy with catching him and Rhodey smoking pot in the latter's room. The lady whacked them with her flip flops so hard, they sobered up with one hit and vowed not to smoke ever again right on the spot. Also, the vintage Zippo had been Howard’s. And despite not being an outwardly affectionate man to his wife, at least that’s what Tony remembered, Howard had his mother’s name engraved on it, which made Tony decide to keep the thing. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>My guiding light, Maria Collins Carbonell Stark.  Like always, in my life, you shine.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Any other time he would have snorted at the irony of using his father’s lighter to burn Steve’s letter, yet the only thing he felt was a bleak sort of numbness.</p><p>He pulled out the fireproof trash bin under the desk and took the monkey sketch. Opening the lighter, he watched as the small flame had devoured one corner of the paper before dropping it into the bin. Taking the letter next, he stared at it for one last time—committing all the changes that he had unwittingly placed into it earlier to memory.</p><p>With a shaky exhale and shaking hands, he held it over the flame. He dropped it on the bin and watched as it turned into ash, a thought came into his mind and he began looking for the phone that Steve had sent. Upon finding it, he debated whether or not he should burn it.</p><p>Burning the monkey and the letter had been easier than Tony had expected. Hurt like a thousand ants nipping at a wound but burning the phone was different. It was Tony’s last direct connection to Steve, knowing that he was in Wakanda notwithstanding.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>And I just wanna hold you, touch you, feel you, be near you</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I miss you baby, baby, baby</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m tired of try’na fake through, but there’s nothing I can do</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Boy, I can’t wait to hate you.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Sure, just thinking about Steve was akin to a rusting knife flaying his heart…but that was because he loved him, more than he had loved anyone, even Pepper.  Deciding not to go through with it, he tossed the phone back into the drawer.   He grabbed some bond paper he wasn’t even sure why he had in his office, and swept the bits of glass and wiped the drops of blood on the floor. After tossing it all in the bin, along with the broken frame, he stood up just in time for FRIDAY to alert him to a message on his phone.</p><p>Someday, he thought.</p><p><em>Someday</em>, he would either burn that stupid phone or throw it back into Rogers’ face.</p><p>For now, he needed to get back in the lab and figure out how to make sure a vibranium prosthesis would work seamlessly with neural implants.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm gonna go and say it...Steve's letter was messy and <i>shady</i> as hell. It was very passive aggressive for an apology letter. T_T </p><p>*the thing with the lighter is actually from the box of my Mom's wedding ring. I just added Maria's name*</p><p>Thank you for reading.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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